Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Of-fucking-course. I should’ve seen this coming. A few days ago, I couldn’t have told him to call me if he couldn’t sleep on his own, but I sure could now.
“I have to tell you something about him,” I said reluctantly.
Just like that, Gael sat straighter and stared at me with fear clouding his eyes. “Have you seen him? Is he here? He’s here, isn’t he?”
I grabbed his hand in both of mine and shifted in my seat to face him better. “First of all, you’re safe. You hear me? I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“He’s here,” he whispered.
I suppressed a sigh and inclined my head. “When I brought in your mail today, I saw an envelope without a stamp on it. It made me suspicious, so I opened it.”
“Oh God.” He withdrew from me and palmed his face.
Goddammit, I didn’t want him to be scared. He had nothing to worry about. I’d fucking see to it.
“He asked if I missed him, didn’t he?” he groaned into his hands. “That’s what he does. And he reminds me that he was the best thing that could ever happen to me.”
In other words, no need to show him the letter.
“Fuck—I have to call the police again,” he said abruptly.
I grabbed on to his arm before he could get up from the couch, and he frowned at me, almost as if he’d forgotten I was there. But he wasn’t alone this time. I wanted to help him.
“What happened the other times you called the police?” I already knew, of course.
He huffed. “They slap him with a misdemeanor. He pays a fine, and that’s that.”
I nodded. “Despite that he’s a repeat offender by now.”
If there was one thing I knew, it was the law. Our legal system. How things could look great on paper and not work for shit when every big-city county was buried in cases. If the judge had deemed Caleb a non-threat for never having physically abused Gael, chances were they’d take the easy way out every time Caleb violated the restraining order. A fine here, thirty days in county jail there. It was bullshit, a slap on the wrist.
“What choice do I have?” Gael asked, exasperated.
“You can leave this to me, sweetheart,” I implored. “If I have to fly out to California and deliver the evidence in person, so be it—but they won’t be able to ignore this when I’m done.”
He knitted his brows together, wary and uncertain. “What are you going to do? What evidence?”
“For one, the letter.” I’d left it in a Ziploc bag when I’d come home. It was in the kitchen. “We gotta think bigger. Every time Caleb harasses you online or calls you, it falls under the same penal code—even when it shouldn’t—because there’s always bigger fish to fry. But delivering a letter…?” Which, even as I said it, didn’t necessarily mean much. It would take resources to prove it came from Caleb, resources the authorities didn’t allocate without some convincing. “It’s a start, at least. I want to rack up the offenses. Get him for stalking, definitely contempt, and maybe—”
“Contempt?”
“Contempt of court—he’s going against a court of law,” I explained. “I’m actually surprised they haven’t charged him with that yet.”
He chewed on the corner of his mouth. “Online harassment isn’t exactly a priority.”
True.
“You really know all this, don’t you?” It looked like he was seeing me with a new pair of eyes.
I smiled faintly. “It’s a long way from working in homicide, but I didn’t start there. I can ramble PCs in my sleep.”
“Oh! I know one—I saw it on a show. Did you get a lot of 148? That’s a code, right?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, partly in relief because he was evidently easily distracted. “It’s difficult to resist arrest when you’re dead.” I tapped his nose.
“Oh, right.” He let out a strained laugh and settled down again.
The reality returned to him, and so did the worry and the sadness.
“I hate him so much. I just want him out of my life for good.”
“I know you do, little one.” I gave his leg a squeeze. “Will you let me take over?”
He brushed his fingers over my hand. “What’re you gonna do?”
“Find him. Make sure enough offenses stick that he’ll spend the next few years in prison.”
Hopefully more than a few, too.
“As long as you don’t get hurt,” he said decisively. Then he crawled up on my lap, and nobody was happier about that than me. “You’re not allowed to get hurt.”
“He won’t hurt me.” I pulled him closer to me and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the letter sooner. I just hate seeing you troubled.”
He scrunched his nose and rubbed it against mine. “It happened a few hours ago. It wasn’t like you hid it for weeks.”
Well. I was glad he saw it that way.